


When Life Gives You Giants

by dreamiflame



Category: Jack the Giant Slayer (2013)
Genre: Fade to Black, First Kiss, M/M, Post-Canon, Trick or Treat: Chocolate Box
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-22 10:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12479260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamiflame/pseuds/dreamiflame
Summary: Any other day it would be a terrible idea. But the world has already gone mad today, what's a little more going to hurt? (Spoiler: It isn't)





	When Life Gives You Giants

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eirenical (chibi1723)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi1723/gifts).



> Thanks to my beta for being a quick bunny on this.

It was a terrible idea, really.

But this was a day that had seen giants climb down from the clouds, and attack his soldiers. He and his army had spent an extraordinarily long time fighting to keep the gates closed while the giants spent just as much time trying to pry them open, a tug-of-war that had been anything but a game.

And after all that the giants had knelt, forced to obey the command of a simple farm boy, wearing a crown of legend.

All in all, King Brahmwell decided, given everything else that had passed today, his idea may be terrible but it was a good day for it.

“Leave me,” he ordered his squire. The poor lad was drooping with exhaustion, as they all were. “Go and find your bed, lad,” he said more gently, and the boy bowed and shuffled off.

The castle was in ruins. The last vine, grown from inside the giants’ king-general, had knocked down most of the towers and walls. So tents had been set up in the courtyards and marketplaces, where ever there was room.

Brahmwell took off his gauntlets and gorget, biding his time until his squire was out of earshot. There wasn’t a lot of privacy to be had in Cloister, but Elmont had instructed the Guardians to set up the King’s tent a slight distance from the rest, to better protect it.

The king planned to take full advantage of that foresight now.

“Elmont,” he said, after he was sure his squire was gone. The tent door rippled slightly, as though Elmont had been startled into shifting his weight. Time for his terrible idea.

“Your Highness?” he replied, still outside.

“I require assistance,” Brahmwell said, trying not to let his amusement color his voice. “Please attend me.”

There was a brief pause before Elmont obeyed. His head Guardian looked exhausted, dark bruises beneath his eyes speaking to how long it had been since the man slept.

“I can send someone to fetch back your squire, Your Highness,” Elmont said, just the slightest hint of reproach in his tone.

“That won’t be necessary,” Brahmwell said. “You can help me out of my armor.”

“Of course, sire. Let me just get another Guardian-”

“Elmont,” Brahmwell interrupted. “Listen carefully. It has been a day of wonders and horrors, of legends made terrible, stinking flesh. I want you to help me out of my armor, shed your own, and come to my bed to help me forget all of it.”

Elmont sucked in a breath as though he had been struck. Brahmwell allowed himself the smallest of smiles.

“This is not an order, my lord Elmont, and you can refuse and go back to your post outside my tent if you prefer. But I don’t think you do.”

Elmont stood there for another long moment, until Brahmwell worried that he had misinterpreted all those looks and touches over their many years together. Then he smiled like sunlight, and stepped closer, hands going to the buckles of Brahmwell’s breastplate.

“As always, sire, I am yours to command,” he said, and proved to be just as adept at armor removal as he was everything else. In stocking feet the few inches he had on the king mattered little, though they were still noticeable.

Elmont set aside the last of his armor and moved closer. Brahmwell reached out and pulled him in the rest of the way, lifting his chin to get the angle right.

Brahmwell had never kissed anyone taller than himself, but he found he quite enjoyed the experience. Along with all of the others that came after.

Settled snugly in bed after, his head on Elmont’s shoulder, Brahmwell let out a soft sigh. “This was a terrible idea yesterday.”

Elmont tensed against him, and Brahmwell tightened his grip. “But that was yesterday, before legends became real and a farm boy saved Cloister.”

Slowly relaxing, Elmont rested a light, reverent hand on Brahmwell’s back. “And today?”

“Today it is a glorious idea,” Brahmwell said, and kissed his Guardian again.


End file.
